


Don't cry.

by Ilerre



Series: Ways to Say I Love You [19]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sibling Incest, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilerre/pseuds/Ilerre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't cry.

0

The house was small but just enough for their small dwindling group. Daryl was in the kitchen when he heard the sound of glass breaking quickly followed by yells.

He jerked in dread and was about to run to the living room when he heard Merle yell at him. "Run, Daryl! Run!"

Daryl froze and turned around to run to the kitchen door leading to the garden, hoping to circle the house and join the other in the living room, but stopped dead in his tracks when he crashed violently against a hard, strong chest. He fell on the wooden floor brutally, his breath leaving his body.

"Oops," the voice chuckled above him, "Kitty's on the floor. Claimed," he whispered while licking his lips.

Daryl grimaced and winced when the man grabbed him by the hair and jerked him up. He stared into the eyes of a tall, brawny man, weathered face showing a hard time outside fighting for survival, cold eyes gleaming inhumanly and cruelly. He moved to hit the man but was roughly shaken and thrown against the wall with such force the plaster bended inward under his weight.

He gasped painfully, his entire body exploding in so much pain he didn't even have enough breath to yell.

"No, no, no," the man laughed. "Don't make me hurt you."

Daryl curled up on himself and cradled his ribs and stomach. "Who're you?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

The man knelt and grabbed him by the hair once more, backhanding him without a word. Daryl was so stunned he didn't even realized he was being dragged into the living room until the man threw him on the floor. Whimpering in pain, he curled up on himself, coughing harshly.

He flinched when he felt something against his side and his eyes opened wide when he realized it was Merle. He looked up and his eyes widened. His brother was looking at him, eyes full of fear, duct tape over his mouth and hands tied behind his back.

"Merle," he whispered.

His brother shook his head, shushing him quickly and Daryl nodded, sitting up with difficulty and leaning heavily against Merle's side. He swallowed painfully and blinked sluggishly, as he stared at the rest of the group: Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Carol and Carl were all kneeling, also gagged and bound, and held by two other man as mean looking and dangerous as the first one.

He turned his attention back to the man who had hurt him and saw him speaking with another one. They were both dirty, shaggy, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, and were heavily armed. They seemed to be in the heat of an argument but Daryl couldn't hear what they were saying.

He pressed closer to Merle, wondering briefly why he hadn't been gagged and bound as well, but didn't want to dwell on it. He felt Merle shift on his knees and lean closer to him, turning his head to press his cheek on the top of his head.

Daryl felt his throat tighten painfully as he realized that, even in such a situation, Merle was still trying to be strong for him, protect him and take care of him. He gripped his brother's shirt and watched the four men argue about their fate. He could understand how they overpowered them so easily and quickly. They had been stretched thin after losing the prison and were all too exhausted from the harsh winter they were barely leaving behind.

Daryl rubbed his cheek against Merle's arm and flinched automatically when the leader and the other man came striding back toward them.

The tallest man—the one from the kitchen—walked to Rick and ripped the duct tape from his mouth violently. "Where're the weapons?" he asked harshly.

Rick shook his head. "We only have the ones you already took," he said frantically, "we don't—" he was cut off when the leader pointed his gun at Carol.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself!" he yelled.

Rick shook his head agitatedly. "We don't have any more!" he yelled back, eyes full of fear and anger. "We've got some ammunition, maybe some food! But we don't have any more weapons!"

The leader straightened up and started pacing, his three accomplices cursing and muttering between themselves. "What are we gonna do?" one of them asked and they all could hear the alarm and agitation in his voice.

"Shut up!" the leader snapped. "Let me think!"

The accomplice stepped in his direction, waving his arm holding the gun dangerously. "What are we gonna do, Joe?" he yelled, "they don't have more weapons, we—"

 _Joe_ pushed him harshly against the wall and yelled in his face. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

The leader turned back to the small huddled group on the floor and walked briskly in their direction, all the while muttering angrily. "I'm gonna make them talk!" he hissed furiously and grabbed Daryl by the hair, dragging him on the floor in front of everyone.

Daryl heard the members of the group yell his name, their exclamations muffled by the gags, and he tried to claw at Joe's hand when the man continued to drag him towards the bedroom.

Still struggling to escape, Joe hit him to the side of the head with the gun, connecting violently with his temple; so disoriented by the sudden blow, Daryl stopped his struggling suddenly too weak and dazed to register anything happening.

He felt himself being pushed on the bed and blinked hazily at the ceiling, drops of blood clinging to his eyelashes and dripping into his left eye. He turned his head and watched Joe put his gun on the high wooden dresser next to the door, then quickly shed his heavy leather coat and throw it carelessly on the floor.

The man turned his head and chuckled at Daryl, walking slowly to the bed, sitting next to him, laughing harder when the archer flinched away instinctively, trying to put some distance between himself and the man. "Maybe hearing you scream will make them talk," he whispered huskily. "You're pretty, Kitty," he whispered, running a clammy hand down Daryl's face.

Daryl jerked away and growled. He hissed when he felt the man's run up and down his chest, going lower until it rested on his crotch. He shook his head frantically and tried to push him away, but his movements were too sluggish from the blow, and far too weak. "We don't've weapons," he slurred.

Joe was taller and heavier than Merle, probably around 6 ft 6, and muscled and bulky like a wrestler. Daryl was no match for him in his weakened state as continued to manhandle and touch him  _like that_. He was at his total mercy.

He closed his eyes when Joe started to unbuckle his belt.

He wanted Merle.

0

It had gone too fast.

They hadn't seen it coming,  _couldn't_  have seen it coming. Everything just happened too fast.

One minute they were sitting in the living room about to decide who took first watch and prepare for the night, and the next, the front door was being kicked down by three men training a gun on them.

The men bound them quickly and efficiently, sticking pieces of duct tape over their mouths, leaving just barely enough time for Merle to scream for Daryl to run.

Several minutes later, his heart jumped in his throat when a fourth man dragged Daryl into the room and threw him on the floor like a fucking ragdoll. Merle could see dark bruises already forming on his baby brother's face and his entire body was shaking with strain and fear.

With all the things Daryl had done for them during the winter, often putting in own health in danger, they all thought it was time to give Daryl some time to rest.

Seeing his brother being thrown on the floor like that, and feeling his body press against his quaking in terror, was something Merle couldn't stand. Being so helpless and unable to help Daryl was his greatest fear. He knelt there, gagged and bound, _powerless_ , watching the man hit Rick, yell in his face, and point a gun at Carol and drag Daryl toward the bedroom.

He felt fucking useless. He felt weak and terrified.

He glared at the two men standing around them; those self-proclaimed _Claimers_. The third one was down the hall, near the bedroom to probably keep an eye out against any interruption.

Merle shook all over, tears burning his eyes at all the things crossing his mind, trying not to picture what _Joe_ was doing to Daryl.

He felt sick.

He suddenly screamed behind the duct tape when he heard Daryl yell in agony and terror, followed by sobs and pleading. He shuddered and leaned over, moaning and pressing his forehead on the floor in front of him when he heard his baby brother yell his name and beg for his help.

The screaming didn't stop for several minutes and Merle started sobbing, hoping to tune out Daryl's tormented cries.

The two accomplices were looking in the bedroom's direction, with pure panic in their eyes and Merle immediately knew that whatever the leader was doing to Daryl wasn't planned.

Rick shook his head pleadingly and begged the men to free them to help Daryl.

Merle's head jerked in the direction of the bedroom when he heard a gunshot and screamed Daryl's name behind his gag, standing quickly but freezing when one of the Claimers pointed his gun in his direction, his hands trembling madly. "I don't—sit down!" he screamed. The situation was so out of control that Merle could see the horror in the man's eyes.

He knelt back down next to Rick and stifled a sob, rocking back and forth in desperation. Daryl couldn’t be dead. He couldn't. His baby was alive.

He couldn't be dead.

It was impossible. He couldn't conceive a life without Daryl. He loved him too much. He wouldn't survive.

Daryl. Couldn't. Be. Dead.

Merle heard the group gasp loudly, and when he looked up, his entire body seized and froze. Daryl was standing on the threshold of the corridor leading to the bedroom, a gun in his trembling hands, pointing it directly in the two remaining Claimers' direction.

Merle shook with relief and terror as he saw Daryl covered in blood, a wound on the side of his face still bleeding. He sobbed when he saw the blood run down Daryl's thighs, bare chest, and only wearing his pair of boxers.

"Don't shoot!" one of the accomplice pleaded. "Please! I didn't know! I didn't know he was gonna do that!"

Daryl was sobbing violently and shook his head, tears running down his bruised and bloody face, but kept the gun trained on the men. "Put your gun on the floor," he ordered hoarsely.

The remaining Claimer exchanged a glance and nodded quickly, putting their guns down, and stepping back up quickly, wearily looking at Daryl. "I'm sorry!" the other man cried. "I didn't know, I swear! We only came for the weapons, I didn't know he was gonna hurt you! He said—"

"SHUT UP!" Daryl yelled.

They nodded and whimpered pathetically.

"Untie them," Daryl sobbed, trembling arm holding the gun unsteadily.

One of the men rushed in their direction and began to untie them with shaking hands. The man who untied Rick first didn't have time to step away, as the former cop hit him so hard he fell unconscious on the floor with only one punch.

Rick stood and quickly tied the second man, before kneeling down to untie the rest of the group. Merle didn't wait to know if everyone was alright, and slowly walked in Daryl's direction, conscious that his little brother was now holding the gun in his direction.

"Hey, baby," he whispered. "Give me the gun, okay?"

Daryl was staring blankly at the empty space where the Claimers had been standing, his entire body wracked with sobs and violent shaking.

Merle swallowed painfully and stepped closer. "Baby, sweetheart, gimme the gun. 't's over, yeah? They're not gonna hurt us anymore."

Daryl's head jerked in his direction, pleading blue eyes staring at him. "Merle?" he whimpered.

Merle smiled wanly and stepped closer. "It's over, Daryl. Gimme the gun," he pleaded quietly.

Daryl blinked and looked at his hands, drenched in blood. He took a sharp breath and swayed, as if he suddenly realized what had happened and dropped the gun as if it had burnt him. Merle took the last step and wrapped his arms around his little brother just as Daryl's legs buckled under him. "'t's okay, baby, I got ya."

He cradled Daryl in his arms and carried him to the couch, wrapping him in one of the blankets. "Okay, 't's okay, you're okay," Merle whispered soothingly, kissing Daryl's face again and again, comforting his sobbing brother. "I got ya, baby, don't cry."

Rick knelt in front of the couch and put a gentle hand on Merle's knee, holding Daryl's clothes. "We need to leave. The noise's bound to attract walkers," he whispered remorsefully.

Merle nodded and sobbed once, rubbing his cheek against the top of Daryl's head, ignoring the blood marring the black strands. "'t's okay, Dare, 't's over."

Merle kept rocking his brother and murmuring gentle reassurances in his ear.

For the first time in their lives, _after so much horrors_ , he didn't know if they were going to be able to overcome this one.

0

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unbetaed. Please feel free to point any typos you saw or missing words, or any sentences that just don't make any sense :)
> 
> **[SUBMIT A PROMPT HERE](http://hillbells.tumblr.com/submit) ******


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